On the tenth day in the seventh month

Oh mystery Oh mystery performed in a riddle

Could you not open your truth just a little

Just for a glimpse of spanning your breadth

To just grasp the meaning of the blood of this death

Covered by vail and a cloud o’er thy seat

Come golden censer thy smoke with cloud thus shall meet

Thy incense beaten small and coal from brazen altar

Justice and mercy are before thy face said the Psalter

One man alone girt in linen attire

Shall stretch forth his hand to the blood and the fire

Sprinkled thy seat of mercy on the side toward the east

That blood that was shed from the blemishless beast

And thy lot shall fall on the scapegoat to be taken

Bearing sin on his head to a land that’s forsaken

As the Psalter said ‘As far as the east is from the west’

Bringing broken children to his eternal rest

Oh the flesh rent in twain from the heaven to the earth

Oh the shedding of blood which is of infinite worth

Three days plus ten in the month numbered seven

That man clothed in linen appeared now in heaven

Our hope as an anchor entereth within the veil

And the order of Melchisedec doth prevail

When the justice of thy blood touch the mercy of thy seat

From everlasting to everlasting now is complete

With reconciliation for sin now thus made

He that appeared in the cloud now hath bade

Bidden us ‘Come’ through the flesh of his Son

The smoke of our incense and the cloud mix as one